When I looked down at the first sample of second-year mating fluid, I cried aloud with satisfaction. By its purposeful movements, I knew it—no, them, there were several—to be the seed-creatures of Broghen, with their large, dark centers each surrounded by an opaque, oval-shaped rim.
I was almost sorry that Brock’an spent so little time here, now. I would have liked to show him this. Grinning to myself, I began examining the first-year mating samples Saft’ir and Yur’i had brought me. In each I saw the same creature, or creatures: the small Ghen seed, propelled by its little tail.
The last sample was marked, “Cammis, second mating”.
There were the same small organisms I’d seen in all the first-year samples. Not two or three, but half a dozen. Whoever Cammis was, he must have labeled his joined Ghen’s sample under his own name, misunderstanding Saft’ir’s instructions. In fact, there might be a number of samples all in the one vial. And why had he called it “second mating”? It was filled with the creatures of first-year matings.
Although I was annoyed at the contamination of samples, I recorded my findings and decided to follow all of these joined pairs. To do so, I needed to learn whom Cammis’s samples were really from.
Stillseason or not, I made my way to Tyannis’s house, so I could speak to Saft’ir.
***
“Tell me about these samples,” I said, through Tyannis. That mutual sign language would be useful. I decided to send my younglings to storytime.
“What do you want to know?”
“Are the donors all adults, all joined Ghen?”
“Of course,” Saft’ir signed, but he double-checked the names on the vials to satisfy me. “All joined adults. But this one isn’t Ghen.” He held up the vial in which I’d found so many Ghen seeds.
“Not Ghen? That’s impossible!”
Saft’ir insisted that it was a single sample from Cammis himself, not his mate. Cammis told Saft’ir it was the secretion from his breasts, prior to his second mating. Of course it wasn’t, but I’d have to get the truth from Cammis, himself.
Saft’ir helped me home. I tried not to lean on him, but the unnatural stillness nauseated me. I closed my eye, willing myself not to be ill in the street. That he should see me so! After I eliminated Broghen, I’d work on this problem.
***
I said nothing to Brock’an about any of this. We had little to say to each other anymore. His child would be weaned in another year, and they would leave.
As soon as stillseason was over, I went to Cammis’s house. Despite my disbelief, Cammis insisted that the fluid was his.
“I wanted to help,” he said, reaching for my hands. I resisted the urge to pull them away from his clasp. “And Tann’an—my joined Ghen—refused. We were late mating. I didn’t want to go at all, but Tann’an made me!” He was openly weeping now. “I’m going to have a Broghen, aren’t I? Just like the ones outside our walls!”
Now I did attempt to disengage my hands. I tried to back away, but he held tight.
“My matri says your work is evil.” I stood still with surprise. “He says you’re trying to usurp Wind. That we birth at His will, and must accept whatever He sends us, with humility. But I don’t want a Broghen inside of me!” His voice rose into a wail.
“No, no, don’t upset yourself,” I murmured, trying to calm him. His display of emotion embarrassed me; I really only wanted to escape. “And ...thank you for your sample.” I pulled my hands free at last and hurried toward the door. “It’s very helpful. Yes, it showed a lot.”
I thought that would please him, but instead his wailing increased. I left so quickly I was nearly running.
When I’d put some distance between myself and his house, I slowed down to think. Ghen embryos in Bria breast secretions? Impossible! Ghen were Ghen and Bria were Bria. But I had no doubt now that the fluid was Cammis’s, just prior to his second mating.
Could they be Bria embryos? No, I’d smeared my breast fluid on my co-joining Bria’s rash. If those were my embryos, I’d have no younglings.
Was I entirely mistaken that these moving things were embryos? Perhaps they were like the other tiny creatures I’d found? But they were larger, distinct, more like the embryos I’d watched develop in the farmborra eggs. I felt certain I was right, even though I couldn’t imagine why they should be in pre-mating Bria breast fluid, not to mention in such numbers.
Had I got it all wrong? For a brief moment I wondered if Bria could be responsible for the creation of Broghen.
Ridiculous! The idea was preposterous! Bria had nothing in common with Broghen. It was the Ghen who were so aggressive.
All my assumptions must be completely wrong. I had simply discovered a second type of organism, which had nothing at all to do with procreation. I’d have to examine more samples, but it was too late for this season.
It was galling to know I’d have to wait a whole year. I wrote up what I’d seen, but didn’t approach Council. What did I have to show them? Hints and guesses.
I wanted to scream with frustration at the way the Broghen eluded me, hiding the mystery of their creation from my searching mind just as the one had hidden itself in my womb.
I’m sure I’m the only Bria who ever looked forward to the return of stillseason.
Council Relations
(Briarris)
I stood at the northern edge of the city, just outside Pandarris’s house, the last one on the street. Ahead, the road became a narrow path running into a meadow. The silver grasses sang their lisping melodies as the wind moved through them.
One hundred armlengths away, the wall stood tall and ominous even in the bright, mid-day sun. Its pennants snapped in the fresh breeze, as though issuing sharp warnings: danger, danger, danger!
Even knowing that I was perfectly safe—as long as the sun was shining—didn’t prevent me from shivering at the sight. Did I once call that wall “antiquated”? My ears twitched at the memory of my own ignorance.
There was an uninhabited feel about the area even before the houses stopped. Most of the Bria living here had left, taken new houses closer to the city center or, if necessary, moved in with their parent. Only my own stubborn offspring had remained. At least Brock’an was still there with him. When Brock’an’s youngling was weaned and they returned to the Ghen compound, I hoped Pandarris would have the sense to move away from the wall.
I reached Pandarris’s house and coughed at his door. Almost at once it was thrown open.
“Matri,” Pandarris said, clearly disappointed. “I was expecting the child-guarder. I must get back to work.”
“It’s only the first day of newseason, Pandarris. He’ll take a day or two to acclimatize before resuming his duties. Most Bria do, you know.”
“Two days? He’s had all stillseason to—” he took a breath. “Would you like to spend some time with your grandchildren, Matri? You haven’t seen them in a while...”
“Where’s Brock’an?”
“He’s taken his youngling to the Ghen compound for the day.”
“And left you here alone?”
“No! He refused to take my children! Isn’t that unfair? His youngling still suckles at morning and at night, I don’t refuse my duty.”
At that point the children came running to greet me. Pandarris made ruberry tea while Zipporis and Kayjais told me about their stillseason adventures and complaints.
“Run outside and play,” Pandarris said, carrying two mugs of tea to the table.
“Certainly not!” I said, over the delighted cries of my grandchildren. “Our walls are under attack, Pandarris.”
“Oh well,” he said, “We’ll take our tea outside and watch them play, then. If I can’t work, at least I can sit out in the wind.”
We sat in the soft grasses and enjoyed the mild breeze as the children ran about, tumbling and somersaulting. I hated to spoil the peaceful scene with my news.
“I haven’t told anyone that you already knew what Koon’an would report,” Pandarris
said mildly after several moments of silence. “You can trust me with whatever you’ve come to tell me.”
“I didn’t expect you would tell.”
He grinned. “When did you realize I knew?”
“The minute you realized it.”
“It’s almost as though we’re getting to be friends.”
“Almost.” We both grinned then, as though we’d been joking.
“So what is it?” he asked.
“There was an incident in Festival Hall this stillseason.” I took a long sip of tea to soothe the emotion out of my voice. “A Bria became hysterical.”
“Who was it?”
“You wouldn’t know him. His name was Cammis.”
“I know him. What happened?”
“He stood up in the middle of the Hall and screamed, “We’re all carrying Broghen!” I took another drink to calm myself. “Then he grabbed Tann’an’s—his joined Ghen’s—hunting knife, and plunged it into his belly, before he could be stopped.”
“Breath of Wind!” Pandarris whispered. His hand trembled as he lifted his mug to his lips. It wasn’t much, but I took it as maturity, this first sign of empathy.
“There must have been chaos.”
“Very nearly,” I said. “Luckily Ocallis was also there, with Mant’er. He stood up on a chair and called for silence over the screams and moans and weeping of the terrified Bria, while Tann’an and two others rushed Cammis out to the infirmary, pretending he was only wounded.
“Ocallis reminded them that he’d already given birth once, which quieted them down to listen. ‘Would I be here a second time if Cammis had anything to be afraid of?’ he demanded of them. ‘It was the fear in his heart, not a Broghen in his belly, that brought him to harm, may Wind restore his sanity. Your own imaginings are all you have to fear.’”
Pandarris shook his head as though to deny my story. “They’ll all despise him when they’ve given birth,” he said, his voice quiet, shaken. “Those who have pieces of his work will break them.”
I closed my eye and shuddered. The wall of anger that would rise against Ocallis would hurt my gentle sibling more than the broken glasswork, but it was no use trying to explain this to Pandarris.
“We’ll stand by him,” he said with grim resolve, and I felt a cool wind of pride rise in me. “Did it work? Did he stop the panic?”
“Most of them had already mated, and their joined Ghen led them home. Two Bria, who had just arrived for their first mating, refused. They, too, were escorted home, and the joining was dissolved.
“Only one Bria, coming for his second-season mating refused. “You’ll kill our offspring,” his joined Ghen told him, but he was panicked and wouldn’t listen. When he couldn’t be convinced by reason, the Ghen cried, “I cannot let my youngling die!” and forced himself upon his terrified mate.”
“Wind’s breath!” Pandarris cried. “It can’t be true.”
I touched my breath.
“They let him?”
“Everyone was too stunned to react. By the time they pulled him away, the deed was done.”
“But he’ll be punished?”
“He’s to be banished after they mate next stillseason.”
“They’re going to let him force the Bria again?”
“What else can they do? He’s had second mating; it’s too late to turn back. If birth isn’t stimulated next stillseason, the Broghen will tear its own way out!”
Pandarris looked ill. At last he said, “What about the other Bria? Will their resolve hold?”
“Ghen who are joined to pregnant Bria have been released from their duty on the wall to guard their Bria.”
“Guard them from what? Themselves?”
When I made no reply he jumped to his feet, pacing in agitation. “You have to stop it! They’re...” he searched for words to express his outrage, “they’re treating us like callan!”
“I can’t stop them. Besides, what would you prefer? Mass panic? Suicides?”
“This will only convince them that Cammis was right.”
“Not if we all deny it,” I said firmly, but there was desperation behind my words and I knew he heard it. “Igt’ur tells me you’re looking for the Broghen seed.”
He looked surprised at the change in topic.
“Do you really think there is such a thing?” I asked.
“I know there is.”
“And you think you can find it?”
He saw where I was going. “Perhaps, if Mick’al allows Ghen to support my research,” he answered cautiously.
“Mick’al will allow it. I’ll see to that. And you’re going to have help.”
“I don’t need help.”
“You don’t need this kind of help,” I agreed. “But you’re getting it anyway. A young Bria named Kirabbis has declared his intent to specialize in ‘enlarging tube research’.”
“He can’t just walk in and take over my invention!”
“Your invention is published now, it belongs to all Bria.”
“Then let him make his own.”
“He will if he must. But it would be better if you welcomed him. Let him apprentice under you. Frankly, I’d rather he do his research under your direction.”
“It sounds like you don’t trust him. Or is it me you don’t trust?”
“He’s a member of Single-by-Choice.”
There was a long silence between us.
“Does he know what I’m working on?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “All I know is that he’s decided to specialize in your field. And if there is a Broghen seed, you’d better be the one to find it.”
Distortions
(Pandarris)
I couldn’t get a child-guarder to come out to my house. I had to escort my younglings to Yur’i’s house for storytime myself, and arrange to have them met there after storytime and brought to my studio to suckle, after which they were taken to school. I was forced to stop work when their school ended, no matter what I might be in the middle of, to take them home. The constant interruptions to my work were aggravating, but they would be weaned in another year and then I would be free.
Kirabbis was another interruption. However, after I taught him how to make an enlarging glass, I realized I could leave that repetitive task to him. This somewhat mollified me.
His enthusiasm when I began showing him objects through my enlarging tube revived for me the thrill of my early discoveries, and I began to thaw to him. He was clever and likable, but very timid. I suspected his decision to join Single-by-Choice was more the result of a fear of Ghen than of ideology, but we did not discuss it. I’d heard enough of that group’s beliefs from Sandarris.
I helped him build his own enlarging tube, and was rewarded by his excitement and delight when he saw for himself the tiny creatures I had discovered two and a half years ago. I left him happily slicing his own finger to examine pieces of skin and drops of blood, and returned to my own research. Not that much could be done until stillseason arrived again, but I repeated the experiment with farmborra eggs, to see if I had missed anything.
Kirabbis was interested in the eggs, but not as much as he was in the blood organisms. Perhaps it was because he would never have children himself. I was relieved—it would save me lying about the existence of Broghen, and sidestepping questions about what I was searching for—but also a little disappointed. I’d begun to enjoy being a mentor, and here he was already striking out on his own.
He was too intelligent to remain a disciple; he leapt ahead. Despite his quick mind, he was very thorough. He examined blood samples from dozens of Bria, and from every creature on the farms, and then he screwed up his courage to ask the Ghen for blood samples.
“Why are they all the same?” he asked me one day. “Why should the blood of Bria and callan and farmborra and Ghen all host the same organisms?” I had no answer. I hadn’t even thought to ask the question. But I was his teacher, I had to say something.
“Perhaps the organisms s
erve some purpose? Perhaps they are needed in all blood, not just ours.”
Kirabbis looked at me, surprised. “Serve a purpose,” he murmured. “What purpose?”
He was talking to himself but I answered anyway. “Maybe a better question is, what happens when they’re missing?”
He blinked twice. When his eye lost focus I returned to my own work. I know how to let someone think.
Stillseason was approaching when he made his great discovery. He had gone to the infirmary for blood samples. Those who had been wounded in some way showed nothing unusual in their blood, but those who were suffering from the burning sickness had an entirely new group of creatures, even smaller than the ones I had discovered, swarming through their blood. Four days later, he examined a fresh blood sample from one of his donors who had now recovered, and the creatures were gone! Only the now-familiar, slightly larger ones remained.
“Write up your findings,” I said, with a mixture of respect and envy. He was even younger than I had been, but I knew this should be published.
“Both our names will go on it,” he declared.
“This is your work.”
“I wouldn’t have found it without your guidance. You asked the questions that led to it.”
How could I not like him?
***
My parent was as good as his word. When stillseason approached, Brock’an began bringing samples from Ghen into my studio. Now that my work was approved, our relationship had also improved, but I didn’t trust him as I once had.
I examined sample after sample, until my findings were conclusive: in first-year mating Ghen there was the tear-drop seed, in second-year mating Ghen, the oval seed. But did I dare announce what I had found? What if I was wrong? Brock’an was still convinced I was missing something. He had me second-guessing myself now.
I couldn’t prevent Kirabbis from looking at the samples without appearing to be concealing something, but he was more interested in his own work. One day, however, easing himself back from his enlarging tube, he noticed my frustration.
“What if you put the two together?”
“What?”
Walls of Wind and the Occasional Diamond Thief Boxed Set Page 29
